Rendezvous in Romanticism
by Iseki
Summary: Entry for "Leafs" contest BiddyAuthor's Story Harvest Forum. Julius has invited Candace over for an afternoon in the garden. His intentions are pure but the beauty of his muse and the atmosphere keep challenging his willpower. From there things get delightfully out of hand.


_A/N: My first entry for a contest in the Story Harvest Forum! Come and join in! The Leafs contest was set to be rated between T and M so I thought I'd give the later a try... Thanks to this being a first attempt it's shamefully fluffy and operating under two key clichés:_

_1.) Sexual interaction before marriage is a very naughty thing in an HM universe_

_and_

_2.) The quiet ones are always naughty_

_This could almost be considered a follow up from the rivals oneshot in Heart's Opposition since I first established my writing for this couple there.  
_

* * *

However much a courting peacock he might appear, for all his strut and bright attire, Julius was not an exhibitionist. He was proud, yes, an eccentric, maybe, but beauty like this only deserved to be accentuated. For every aspect of his life that sparkled like a ruby masked by stone required polishing by his steady hand; not for show, per se, but to extinguish that insatiable passion that ignited in his very being.

Not an exhibitionist, no. If anything, there were certain things he wanted to covet and hide from this world forever…

* * *

This had been a very bad idea.

The mood was right, the lighting good, and the colours were _perfect_.

They were perfectly ensconced in the back garden of his modest two bedroom bungalow. A healthy smattering of maple trees were tall and protective above them. Paperwork and pattern from their earlier investment was strewn across the metal latticework of his chic patio table built for two; designed exactly for alfresco such as this.

They were only days away from their engagement being fulfilled, and wedding bands on their fingers... So why? The guilt and resultant shame seemed to be eating him alive.

It wasn't as though he'd told her to move with such damnable slow tortuousness, or asked her to move the heavy shimmering locks of her hair over her shoulder with a hand that was both deliberate and uncertain; the delicate curved wrist resembling the neck of a white swan.

Her milky skin contrasted beautifully against the orange and yellow of the autumn season around her. It was enough to send his heart pounding and his jaw slack. She wore blue, under blue, under blue; an assumption he could have made without seeing, although the modest lace was a welcome surprise. He licked his lips with a dry tongue, suddenly overcome by the worry that he appeared desperate, nervous, _creepy _in his desire to consume her with his eyes. Little Juli had been a creep before, a cruel misguided child, and were her sister here to see him today he was certain without a shadow of doubt that she would have knocked him for six and more if he ever _dared_ to wake up afterward.

He had changed, he wanted to prove to her again how he had changed, and he wanted to capture all that he saw in her inside the canvas and paint he'd taken a recent interest in and show her the result.

'_Look how beautiful you are.'_

And yet his brush was frozen in the air, trapped within the gentle autumn breeze that now felt far too thick and hot and greedy. His airy clothes were a tight irritating cage.

Candace shuddered, startling him from his reverie with a sharp regret. "S-say something," she murmured, the rosy sweetness to her cheeks only serving to heighten his dismay.

This had been _such_ a very bad idea. How had he possibly convinced this angel otherwise?

He wished he could remember now to convince himself.

"Very-very good," Julius managed, busying himself with paint, pouring and mixing and testing on the back of his hand. The sooner he finished the sooner he could ease his conscience of this misdeed and be glad of the results.

Candace's cardigan drooped lower, exposing the fine bone of her collar and the swell of her breasts where her arms were still wrapped tightly around herself. A brief sigh of air escaped through his nose, the aesthetics suddenly off. He moved from easel and closer to her. It was easier when he thought of her as just another piece of the scenery, a reference for his designs; he patted her timid posture into correction, arranged the sheaves of fabric more dramatically, and tilted her chin until the dappled sunlight hit her eyelashes and the smooth slope of her nose, intensifying all that tempting whiteness. She was like snow, bound to this earth by the mysterious azure of her clothes and nature; like the ice-capped northern shores of the mainland only warmer...somehow... pulling him under...

"Juli?"

Candace's round dark eyes were on him, the tilt of her chin ruined, and her posture shying once again. He was gazing at her face, far too close to her ear where the hair was tucked in a cascading wave. He could smell her gentle perfume, the scent of soap and shampoo and just Candace who was somewhere between lilacs and the unobtrusive smell of fresh feather pillows and linen. Unremarkable and yet so comforting.

His fingers were caught in her discarded shirt; the button's unencumbered with keeping her thin distracting physique from the gawking eyes of other men. He had never been so grateful for the thick wool, his free hand travelling to adjust the strap of her camisole. Now would be the time to call this off, to cover her, to hide her from the cruel ravenous world once more but at her gasp he realized instead that his lips had found the soft nape of her neck and that all his good intentions had trickled away.

He was a devil: he'd tricked this virgin angel into letting her guard down and now she would pay for her naivety. He wanted to fight it, wanted to quash the evil inside but his body had different ideas.

"J-Juli," she laboured, her breaths coming short and fast as he tangled his hands in her hair and planted his kisses generously. Down her sloping shoulder, over her collarbone, across her chin... correcting the tilt once more.

"Juli," she croaked again, more intently this time.

His sense of morality was a mere thread, but it remained true for this moment, revealed by her call. He would cut his body to pieces before her hurt her again. The painting could be resumed, the afternoon a success but for the glossing over of his beastliness, everything could still be put to right if she only wished it.

"Yes, Candace? My sweet, my only, my angel?" He continued to hold her close while she blushed pretty as a flower. The colour spread across her ears and even lower to the supple skin of her chest.

"we-we're outside," she reminded after a length and her gentle timidity caused his rising anxiety to melt.

"We're safe," he promised resolutely, tucking her hair afresh. "You're safe."

As Julius took one last indulgent moment to carve the image of her upon his memory a curious thing happened. Candace took hold of his face with all the strength and feathery touch of bird wings and met his greedy sinful lips with her own. He collapsed inwardly, tasting like a starving man might taste; disbelieving and afraid that the sensation be proven as nothing more than an illusion. The first morsel on his tongue was the sweetest honey.

Although Julius was far from strapping, Candace herself seemed to weigh little more than a sack of potatoes; he plucked her up from where she sat easily. The blank canvas forgotten, he carried her into the deeper shade of the maple trees, peppering her cheeks with fluttering kisses and settling her in a nest of fabric backdrop.

"Safe," he echoed again, but what he really meant was "_Mine_."

It no longer mattered that their plans and careful swatches were mislaid by the wind, or whether his expensive oil paints ordered especially from the mainland dry out where they sat on his palette. It didn't matter if they dilly-dallied and missed the seamstress's unforgiving curfew, engaging the wrath of the little lioness Luna. Come what may, he would be prepared. All that mattered now was this perfect woman; the woman who had held his heart since they were little more than children. How she should have broken and discarded it when they'd met again, and yet here she was soft and yielding beneath him, reflecting that same tormenting love.

He peeled the rest of her cardigan away and she squirmed girlishly, making to cover herself until he caught her wrists underhand. If his smile was any more predatory than usual her heated gaze gave him no indication; he crushed his body to hers and found her lips again in a rush of new enthusiasm.

When a hand found her breast she bit back a whimper and arched against his palm. Her back was rigid, pressed underneath him, and her expression was such a mixture of wanton desire and pre-emptive dread that he felt his sanity slip a little further. He mapped every inch of exposed skin with his mouth and intrepid fingertips. A hand travelled her thigh, his tongue skimming the minute depression of her navel; his senses were filled with Candace.

The shy and modest seamstress seemed nowhere to be seen. In their little slice of heaven Candace was unbridled by his passion. She accepted him if not equalled him in ardour. Her grip was tight on his shoulders, her legs weak and her toes curling. When he pressed a knee between her thighs her body responded as naturally as a baby drinks. They kissed. He touched. And when he made to loosen the drawstring of his trousers she helped him along.

Once their skin met there was only urgency. Every movement felt like fire and he fanned the flame carelessly. Candace hissed only once and then her noises were quiet insistent whispers at his ear. He was gentle and then he was fierce, each stroke bringing them together, closer and closer. He marvelled at the feel of her around him, pulling him deeper.

At last they collapsed side-by-side and exhausted.

In the haze of the aftermath Julius wondered mildly if taboos were only established to be broken. So great was the feeling of rightness that he would never let her forget. He caressed her belly lightly and bent to her neck for another languid kiss to her heartbeat.

She squirmed, giggling, although the sound was quiet enough to be mistaken for a sigh. He jerked up to meet her eyes and found her flushed and smiling.

"Your hair...tickles..."

Horrified, he grabbed a handful and lamented. It would be the only time in his long and happy life that he wished he was like other men: manes kept short and trim and manageable. But, oh, what a travesty it would be to remove such lusciousness, such tinted and coloured perfection and nary a split end! Perhaps a ponytail; he could tie it back like he did while he was cooking or cleaning. He could simply adopt a more carefree style- loose denim, jersey t-shirts, wool caps - the very idea! But for her it would be worth it.

Candace giggled again. "It's okay," she reached up to trace his cheek. "I like it."

"Candace," he began slowly, "In all my life and all my travels you are by far the most beautiful woman I've known, inside and out."

Her smile faltered, "Y-you've known many women..?" He was covering her, buttoning the discarded cardigan neatly when his fingers froze. Her misunderstanding was as heartrending as it was adorable. At arm's length she was a disarming vision of contradictions: dazzling skin and sexily mussed hair, eyes like a storm and blue tartan pulled tight to hide her nakedness.

"Oh no," He embraced her suddenly, "not like this, no!

There has only ever been Candace in my heart!"

Thawing under his touch, she nodded. A sniffle caught in the ruffle of his shirt. He finished dressing her quickly, finding abstract pleasure in doing so as though she were his willing doll. He would need to remind himself to do this again sometime, perhaps even designing the outfit beforehand as a surprise...

"Julius," Candace called. Her tone would be very much like a mother tutting over a naughty child if it wasn't for her innate bashfulness; he sensed her sentiment but there wasn't any power behind it. "You're filthy." She patted his clothing, freeing it of the dust and broken leaves that had caught there during their activities.

He grinned roguishly, noticing she too had become dirtied. He plucked a golden coloured leaf from her hair, showing it to her as it crackled under his thumb and forefinger. Candace turned a brilliant shade of scarlet; the full force of their actions seeming to hit her in that moment. It was like a naughty secret they would share forever. Though the blush remained Candace joined him in a light lilting laugh from behind her cupped hands.

She fit in perfectly with the gold, the orange, and the red of autumn; the leaves shimmering above them in the trees and in small gusty piles along the picket fence. It was exact, if not better, than his painting might've been: the beautiful maiden in blue, smiling shyly, haloed by a glorious scene made bright by her loveliness and his love. The picture was so exquisite that Julius knew he might never capture it.

Still, as he planted a light kiss on the hand that would carry his ring, he knew it wasn't such a terrible loss.

At least he had managed to capture the real thing.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review and tell me how thankless and hollow my smut is :)_


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